The Other Path Chapter 82

"What's that?" Rick asks as Kate's cellphone dings a text while he's serving smiley-face pancakes.

"It's from Perlmutter. The isotope analysis on John Doe came through. He grew up in St. Petersburg."

"That's what you expected, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's another piece of the puzzle. A Russian that our other Russians were tracking screwed up. It's unlikely that anyone else took him out. And forensics is supposed to be testing the weapons we confiscated from them. If one of them matches the bullet Perlmutter recovered from the body, we have a slam dunk."

"A slam dunk for you or the FBI? And the CIA probably knows by now that you brought those guys in and that the FBI has the parts and what's left of the plane. They'll probably be duking it out over that stuff in a SCIF somewhere."

Kate picks the chocolate nose off her pancake. "It doesn't matter now. Those Russians will be behind bars, whether it's a federal prosecution or a state one. And if the FBI hogs the case, the trial will be held behind closed doors, with the feebies taking the lion's share of the credit. That's less trial prep for me."

"A remarkably flexible attitude," Rick notes. "Usually, you bite and claw for every tasty morsel of your cases. Pregnancy suddenly mellowing you out?"

"More like making me evaluate what's most important. With the other duties I've taken on – and the baby – I don't have time to wage battles where the outcome will be the same no matter which side claims the win. I'm going to concentrate on getting the bad guys off the streets and making sure they stay that way. That's what matters."

Rick grins at his wife. "Good for you! I'll have some shifting of focus for Nikki Heat as well, but it's all good."

"Are you going to make her pregnant, too?" Kate wonders.

"I haven't decided yet. But her story will have a twist that yours never did. In itself, that will take her in a different direction. I may even throw in a Storm crossover."

"Isn't that stretching things a little?"

"Hey, it works for ratings on TV. You never know. But right now, Heat and Storm are pretty well caught up with Black Pawn's schedule."

"That's rare."

"A silver lining to the bullet wound in my chest. But that means I'll have more time to work on my GAN."

"Oh, yes. Your great American Novel. How's it coming?"

"It's coming. And if you spend more time teaching and supervising, I'll have more impetus to finish it. Stephen King said it should never take more than three months to write a book. I've never met that deadline."

"Too many distractions?"

"Too many opportunities for adventure. Holding up in Maine hunched over a keyboard has never appealed to me. King doesn't rake in as much as Patterson, but he still does damn well. Still, he doesn't seem to get as much fun as he might out of it. And nothing he's written has ever been held up as great literature. Patterson or any of the other top earners either. I could be the first to leap the snob wall."

"The snob wall?"

"The one between books people don't want to admit to reading and the ones they won't admit they haven't read. There are liars on both sides, of course, but it would be fantastic to straddle the divide."

"Well, good luck." Kate glances at her watch. "I've got to hurry up and get out of here. I'm due in Vice."

"You haven't suddenly decided to employ your bounties to lure horny but unsuspecting Johns, have you?"

"No. These days, Vice is more interested in busting the pimps for sex trafficking. I'm going to be observing interviews of the working girls. And I'll have a social worker with me to help pick up on signs of abuse."

"How old are those women?" Rick asks.

"All ages, but some of the trafficked ones can be barely past puberty if that. We need to stop the greedy monsters who force them into that existence."

Rick reaches for his wife's hand. "But how do you really feel about it, Kate?"

"That those guys are as bad as murderers because they force the most vulnerable into lives of living hell."

"And you want to help put a stop to it."

"Damn straight."


As Kate looks through the mirror into interrogation, she can see one of the girls shivering in her skimpy outfit. The detective adjusts the thermostat. At least she can give some measure of comfort that way. None of the teens looks older than fifteen, and under the makeup, they may be even younger. They should have had a shower and some warmer clothes. She'll make that suggestion for the next interview. Conducting the questioning in the lounge instead of the harsh atmosphere of the box would be better too. But the lounge isn't set up with the recording paraphernalia they need. With a laptop and microphones, that would be fairly easy to rectify.

A woman with gray just beginning to lighten her temples joins Kate at the mirror. "Detective Beckett?" Kate nods. "I'm Miriam Gross from Child Protective Services. I understand we're to be observing together to offer suggestions."

"That's right," Kate acknowledges. "I already have some we can talk about when the session is finished. But from what I'm seeing so far, we're looking at a procedural shift."

"Or an attitude shift," Miriam offers. "It is relatively recent that the DA decided to stop prosecuting prostitution and turn to trafficking and the customers that fund it instead. But from what I've seen so far, some cops still have a hard time viewing these girls as victims."

"Change doesn't happen fast in the department," Kate agrees. "But at least the DA is pressuring some of the higher-ups to change their focus. If he doesn't prosecute, it makes the NYPD look like it's wasting its time, and 1PP hates bad press."

"So does Social Services. So, Detective, I get the feeling that we can work together to clean things up."

"And our first step will be making sure the guys in there behave themselves," Kate notes. She points through the glass. "From what I've picked up, that cop, Feeney, is a holdover from the days when it was all about busting the women. I checked his cases. He came on like a John and took them in when they went for the bait."

Miriam follows Kate's gaze. "I know the type. They blame the victims instead of the abusers."

"Abuse won't be continuing here," Kate declares. "If either one of us sees a problem, we're going in there. And I have my captain's full support on that."

Miriam's eyes sweep over the men in the box. "That's good to know."


Rick stares at his laptop screen in disgust before addressing the dog curled up on the floor nearby. "You know what my problem is. I really hate my villain. He's a terrible human being. But I can't make him do any of the obviously villainous things I could if he was in a Storm or a Heat. It would be like he was twirling his mustache and tying little Nell to the railroad tracks. I have to make him move in subtle but even more detestable ways. And I'm not the world's most subtle person."

Getting to his feet, Cronut noses Rick's knee before padding off. He returns with his favorite toy and sticks it in Rick's lap.

The writer scratches his companion behind the ears. "That's very kind, and I genuinely appreciate the gesture. But I think I need more than Mr. Chewey. Perhaps I should turn on the cable feed from the United States Senate. I may hear something truly detestable there – if the droning doesn't put me to sleep."

Recognizing the last word, Cronut curls up again at Rick's feet.